


Who am I?

by IamTDR



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-10 00:39:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16460153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IamTDR/pseuds/IamTDR
Summary: Underneath the kevlar suit, scary mask, gruff voice, menacing scowl - is a man. People fear him, detest him, adore him, worship him - but does anyone truly know him? The man beneath the mask. The boy who lost everything in a single night.(My try to figure what goes inside the head of the Caped Crusader)





	Who am I?

The night was dark with clouds of storm brewing hatred over my city.

Standing on top of the water tank I looked around me. Shrouded in deceit, lies, corruption, and sin, my city bled every night as I stood watching over it. Some called me their guardian, while the rest a thug. An enigma for the few and nuisance of the others. But something all of them shared against me was fear. 

Fear of who I was and the fear of what I could do. 

The clouds crackled above me breaking the shackles of darkness with its cold white light, only for the gloom to return with vengeance.

I wouldn’t have heard it, the sound of lightning so loud and clear. But I did. 

The sound of a gun going off followed by a scream. 

Then silence.

I moved. 

Taking a few steps back, I ran towards the edge and then jumped. Straight down the thirty storied building with the pavement inching closer in a heartbeat. But before it hit, I spread my cape, the air cushioning me against the fall as I glided across the night sky towards the scream. Lights flickered through the rooms of the buildings as I glided across the streets, the earth coming closer and closer. I knew I could not fly like them. Nor did I possess powers to aid me in my battles. I was just a man standing against the vileness of the society, but for how long. How long did I have before some criminal put a bullet through my skull? How long till my body gave up, tired of the bruises and shattered bones? How long?

I didn’t know. 

Maybe it could be today. Or tomorrow. Or maybe the day after. 

But dying didn’t matter to me anymore. It never did since I kid. Eight years old and newly orphaned in a world where people cared nothing other than themselves. Where money meant status and power, the license to oppress the weak. 

But I was not one of them.

I cared for the people whom no one cared. Cared for a city who no one loved. And reminded myself every day why I did what I did. Fractured bones, bruised muscles, and the pain. Oh, so much pain. But I never stopped. Never did, never will. 

And so here was I, gliding across the buildings, hoping against hope that I was not late.

They were in the alley. A woman struggling as two men tried to coerce her on onto her back. A body of a man lay few feet from them, still as stone.

Was I late? Did it happen again? Another family swallowed up by the abyss of darkness.

I glided down the roof across the alley, my feet breaking the fall and rolling over to ease the descent. On my feet in an instant, I rushed to the edge. Looking down, the scene became clear to me. The alley was dark and dingy with the light of the street lamps barely touching the shadows. Two men, dressed in baggy clothes were over the woman. One holding her hands while the other struggled with her clothes. A cloth gagged to her mouth to silence her screams. Suddenly a little boy ran towards them, fists swinging in blind fury. He tried kicking the man holding the woman’s hands but was pushed off with ease. But the boy rose again and tried climbing the man’s back, punching and biting as he moved. But this time the thug was not subtle as before. With a kick to his chest, the boy flew across the alley and crashed into the trash cans, hard.

I had seen enough.

I jumped. 

Landing behind the thug who kicked the boy, I circled my arms around his neck choking him. Not enough to kill him but enough to lose his grip on the woman. Then with a flip, I send him flying against the brick wall, just as he had done to the boy.

The other one recognized me, scared and frightened, he released the woman’s legs and tried to run. 

But I didn’t let him. 

I tackled him on the pavement before he left the darkness of the alley. Then I was on him in an instant swinging my fist, breaking his nose and busting his face. Then I swing again. And again. And again. And kept going until he was half dead, unconscious by the pain. Blood flowed down my gloved hands and some splattered against my vest and the mask I wore. 

The sound of running footsteps made me turn.

The other one was trying to run, holding his neck as he struggled to breathe. I was off in an instant and with a couple of steps was over his body swinging my fist, striking his ribs, his face, his belly as he coughed up blood. He tried shoving me off him, but I took hold of his arm and with one twist removed it from his shoulder. The scream that followed was music to my ears. 

I wanted him to feel what the boy felt when he kicked him and suffer the helpless the woman faced. And I wanted him to feel pain. Pain in the bloodiest sort of way. Pain that would cripple him for life. And I gave it to him. First the shoulder, then his knees and then the remaining ribs. When I was done, he had already passed out, pain too much to bear. 

The woman and the child came to mind and I turned to look for them. But they were nowhere. Then I heard the sobs. 

Silent lonely sobs.

The woman and child were sitting next to the man’s body, crying and urging him to wake up. But he didn’t.  
Lightning crackled again, brightening up the skies with its light bearing me to witness my failure. Another family destroyed, swallowed up by the city into its eternal darkness with me as a mute spectator. I had failed again. Just like I had so many years ago.

My intercom buzzed loudly, only for me to heed. I tapped the side of my mask just beside the right ear, accepting the call.

“The police are coming your way sir,” the voice instructed me, measured and soft. “You should move.”

“Okay.” I cut off the intercom with another tap and stared at the family, broken by the curse of this city. Cold rain began falling from the night sky dimming the sound of their sobs against the incessant patter. 

I moved away as the noise of the sirens came closer, returning to my place amongst the shadows, the sound of cries still echoing in my head. 

A failure.   
_______________________

 

The cries still followed me as I came home. The faces of the woman, child and the dead man flashing across my eyes.

After removing my armor I exited the cave, the lift pulling me out from the depths and back into the manor. Dim lights showed me through the maze of rooms and passages until I finally arrived to the chamber I had never visited for twenty years. With my shaky hands, I turned the doorknob and entered. 

It was the same as I remembered so many years ago. The queen size bed, the varnished writing table, the cupboard filled with books and the old rocking chair against the large glass doors. The rain had stopped by then with an old moon escaping the confines of the grey behemoths, throwing its light into the chamber. 

I stood near the door, unable to move as memories came back thick and fast. The memories of being a child hiding in this room when nightmares scared me. But there were people here then, people I cared more than anything in my life. They would hug me, kiss me and make all the bad dreams go away. 

But now the room was empty and so was my heart, nightmares tearing my soul. No one was here to save me, to protect me. I was alone. Alone in this room with only the scent of forgotten memories to warm me.

With the uneasiness I still felt, I walked past the door and took a seat on the bed. My eyes wandered towards the photo frame on the desk. With unsteady hands, I picked it up and looked into the faces of the couple who stood holding hands with the black-haired boy in the middle.

All smiling happily. 

I returned the frame where it belonged and moved away from the bed and onto the chair beside the glass doors. My fingers brushed against the wooden frame as I took a seat. With a small push, the chair began to rock as I stared into the night sky blankly, trying to for a moment to find peace.

I failed in that too.

The sound of the door opening broke me from my trance. My butler dressed in his black liver entered with a tray in his hands.

“You should take your meals sir,” he told me, placing the tray on the stand. Then he moved to stand beside me, his eyes mirroring the moon light. With a clean-shaven face, receding hairline and crystal blue eyes, he looked tired and…old.

“I am sorry for what happened tonight sir. The family wer-”

“How did you know I would be here?” I interrupted, not in a mood for pities. I had failed to protect the family, protect innocent lives, something I had sworn to do.

The old butler turned and gazed at me, a smile forming on his wrinkled lips. “I have seen since you were a baby, sir. Crying in your mother’s arms. I would expect myself to be familiar with your habits by now if I can call myself your family butler.”

“I don’t think I can continue anymore,” I confessed suddenly. My voice quivering with hidden emotions spiraling out. The faces of boy, the woman and the dead man all looking down on me. ”It is too much for me. I’ve failed too many times. I am but one man.”

“Yes, you are,” he replied, softly. “But that choice was yours sir. The choice to fight this crusade alone.”

Unable to retort, I remained in my silence and so did he. We both stared into the scene in front of us, the sounds of waves and the smell of the sea serving as our companion.

“I never wanted you to do what you do sir,” he finally told me, shattering the fragile silence between us. “I promised myself that I would keep you safe. Try giving you a childhood you never had. But I failed in both and hence now I am here. Old and weak, watching you go night after night into the city, fearing it might be the last time I see you alive.”

“So you want me to stop?” 

“I do sir,” the old butler nodded. “I want to see you happy. With a wife and children and sounds of laughter and joy echoing through the manor which has remained in silence for so long. I want you to live a life your parents wanted you to live. Not fighting a crusade you can never win.”

He then moved away from the door and took a seat on the bed, his hands clasped together and his eyes down into the floor. “But I have witnessed what you are capable of sir. The people you saved. The men and women you gave hope to that one day this city would be a place they could live in peace. Fear might be your ally, sir. But its hope that you stand for. Hope that one day the people of Gotham would be free from all that has plagued this beautiful city.” 

Slowly he lifted his head and with his eyes stared into my very soul. “I won’t stop you if you decide to step down from the mantle you have held for so long sir. I won’t stop you if you decide to abandon it all behind and move on. But I have seen through the years, the lives of people whom you have affected. The smiles on the faces you were able to protect. It is selfish I know. But these people still need their guardian. The savior who would defend their families from the creatures that haunt the streets. So yes sir, they still need you. They still need their protector, their savior, their knight. They still need The Batman.” 

I sat there speechless for how long I didn’t know. Maybe a few minutes or perhaps hours. Both of us stayed where we were, lost in our own thoughts only to be broken by me. “Thank you Alfred,” I said. I truly was.

“It is my job sir,” the old man smiled, and then his eyes looked up through the glass window. “And it seems your need has arrived. The commissioner if I am not wrong.”

I turned back to see another light mirroring the moon shining brightly in the gloomy sky with the shadow of a bat in the middle.

“Shall I get your toys ready sir?” he asked me with a smile.

I smiled in return. “Yes, Alfred. I think you should.” 

____________________________________________________________________________________

**Author's Note:**

> I never lost my parents in a dark alley to a thug with a gun. But I did lose them underneath the bright lights of a hospital, where I cried and begged for them to come back. But they never did. Saw them breathe their last as I watched helplessly, praying to whatever God or deity to bring them back. But they didn't. 
> 
> I was 11 at that time. Newly orphaned and wholly broken. It's been a decade now since I lost them. But the memories...well I am an insomniac I guess.
> 
> I am not a writer. Never wanted to express my emotions on a piece of paper. Too chaotic and cold for a human to read. But every once in a while I let it go. I don't drink, so drowning in my sorrows is not an option. So for the first time in my life, I picked up a pen (or here, a keyboard) and wrote it down, in the guise of a character I admired since five. Hope you guys liked. Comment and Kudos...you know the drill. 
> 
> And on a passing note, from someone who lost everything in a day - love and cherish the people who love you for who you are. They could be anyone - parents, relatives, girlfriend, boyfriend, pet...anyone. And if you can, tell them thank you for being there with you. Who knows, that might be the last time you ever see them.
> 
> Adios.


End file.
